Chapter 6 Lukas
six
Lukas
Training camp is not for the meek. Even for a seasoned veteran like me. I’m young on the page, but on the ice? Fuck, I feel like I’m older than a dinosaur.
I’m fit. I do my conditioning. Yet these younger guys still skate circles around me without breaking a sweat. But what I lack in speed, I make up for with my strength and playmaking. That’s what I need to keep a spot on this team.
And I intend to keep it.
“All the defence over here, please!” Coach Nix waits on the ice, and eight of us skate over. I need to be better than five guys if I want to dress every game. And I do, but I’d rather be better than more than that and not be a third-line defenceman.
“Breakout drills, fellas. Split into two groups and switch after everyone has had a turn.”
Four of us go behind the net, and four of us stay at the blue line, including me. Coach will pass the puck to the player trying to leave the zone, and it’s our job to shut him down, so he doesn’t reach the neutral zone. It’s one of my favourite drills.
Smitty is the first to attempt to break out, and he’s up against Soupy.
Soupy has been around enough to know the moves, none of which Smitty has.
I watched Smitty earlier in warm up and for a young guy, he’s slow as fuck, and unless he’s afraid to show us his skills, his hands might as well be cement.
Soupy doesn’t even give him a chance and knocks him off the puck far too easily. Soupy steals the puck and wrists it into the net.
“You need to try harder than that, kid,” Soup barks.
He most certainly does. But he’s one of the five I’m confident will be below me.
The next pairing is more of a battle until Coach calls an end to it and for the next pair to begin.
Taking my turn at the blue line, I groan when I’m matched with the asshole player known as Mitchel Evans.
I try to like all my teammates. We need to work together to win, but this guy will be a challenge.
His reputation in the league is of someone who walks a line so tight to the rules, he should get an award for his balance.
Coach passes him the puck, and he charges out of the zone on a diagonal.
I know he’s hoping to beat me on my nonstick side, but I’m not letting that happen.
Digging into the ice, I get a step on him.
Seeing his window closing, he pivots back, and I let him create distance, but not far enough that I can’t catch him.
It’s not my job to pressure him down low in this drill.
It’s my job not to let him cross the blue line.
He charges to the other side of me next, moving the puck and protecting it, but he’s misjudged my speed, and I catch him easily, slamming him into the boards a little too hard for practice.
“Piney, for fuck’s sake, ease up! I’m gonna be injured before the season starts.”
“Are you soft, Evans? That wasn’t even all of my body in that check.”
“Fellas, enough!” Coach blows his whistle while Evans glares at me. This training camp will be super fun if this is how it’s going to go for two weeks.
“Listen up! The following players grab a red bib. Ten-minute scrimmage before you break for lunch and dry land routines after.”
Coach calls out players to the red team, and I’m one of them. As we always do, each team organizes itself on the bench, and we sort ourselves out. Coach assigns us our linemates, and I wiggle over to sit with Smitty.
“Lucky you. You’re my partner today.”
He blinks at me before shaking his head. “Heh, yeah. Partner. Anything I should know?”
“Nah. Just play a strong game. I rarely play too deep because I know I’ll always get stuck down low. So if you see an opportunity, you can take the pinch and I’ll cover for you.” I turn my gaze towards him. “But you have to be sure to skate and catch up.”
He nods, lips pressed. “Got it. You don’t go deep. I mean, er, you’ve got my back. Skate faster.”
His knee bounces next to mine, and I bump him with my shoulder. “We’ll rock this, Smitty. Just have fun.”
He squirts water in his mouth, and the coach drops the puck with the first line-ups out there. It’s fast into the other team’s zone, and Youngblood scores a goal, easily stepping around the defence and floating a snapshot over the goalie’s shoulder.
As Smitty and I jump the boards to line up for the faceoff, the familiar rush of game day slams home.
It’s a combination of the thrill of playing a game I love and the awe that people put me here because they think I’m good enough.
I get paid to play a game, and it’s the best thing in the world.
Just because it’s not the NHL doesn’t mean there isn’t talent here.
There’s no shame in backing up the pro team. It would be nice to get the call-up, don’t get me wrong, but if this is all I have, I’ll take it.
After the puck drops, Smitty and I work to advance our line into the offensive zone.
His passes are fast and efficient. Tape to tape, and he moves with confidence.
He rushes low, and I cycle over to cover his position while the high forward drifts back to the blue line.
Smitty loses his open scoring chance and sends the puck back to me before he’s knocked off the puck.
With the puck on my stick, I defend it until Smitty can regain his position.
No clear shot exists for me, so I pass it back to Smitty and return to the other end of the blue line.
He takes a shot, and there’s a flurry of bodies and sticks in front of the goal, but the puck squirts out back to the blue line, and this time I step forward to get the puck since all the forwards are covered.
A split-second hesitation ends it. I know Evans is fast and can pick my pocket cleanly, but I didn’t think he’d take a dirty shot in a practice scrimmage. His stick catches me in the chin as he checks me off the puck, and a warm flow of blood oozes.
“Fuck! That was no accident, you asshole!” He didn’t need to follow through on his attempt to take the puck like he did, and he knows it as he stands and smirks at me while I bring a hand to my face.
The other players skate down the ice, continuing the scrimmage, leaving me and Evans toe to toe.
“You’re only on this team to protect the rest of us with any talent, Piney. Or should I call you whiny?”
“Do you really want to do this with me?” Fisting his jersey in my hand, I yank him close as he laughs. “The only reason you don’t have a fist in your face right now is because it would make us both look bad.”
The whistle blows, and Coach calls our names.
“Pine, get that cut looked at. Evans, you stay after and skate until you puke. If you have a problem with a teammate, you come to me. If you ever try to hurt someone on this team again, consider your season over.”
Evans hates getting chewed out in front of the team, but he brought it on himself.
“Yes, Coach,” he grits.
Coach catches my eye, and I nod that it’s okay before leaving the ice for the training room. Upon entering, it’s still a mess of unpacked boxes of bandages and ice packs and whatever else they keep in these cupboards.
But the man in the room is familiar. How can it be him?
“Landon?”
The cheerful giant of a man turns with a welcoming grin.
“Lukas! Hey man! I’d ask how you’re doing, but the blood dripping from your chin is a giveaway.”
Landon was the trainer who stitched up my chin during a game in New York last year.
He was filling in for us when our trainer ended up getting food poisoning on the road.
I took a puck to the face, and I was damn lucky it didn’t break my jaw.
Landon stitched me up and chatted the whole time like we were the best of friends.
“I certainly wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
He motions for me to sit on the table and passes me a towel.
“Me neither, but the old team was just a contract. I filled in for the pros, then spent time with the farm team. But they didn’t renew me.
Sounds like someone’s brother needs a job instead.
” He shrugs it off as he snaps on a pair of gloves.
“Now I’m here and admiring my suture job. Your chin looks pretty good.”
“Chicks dig scars, right?” I laugh at the old joke, even though it’s been years since I’ve been with a woman. Although guys dig scars, too. Ben seemed to be okay with it.
“So I’m told.” He dabs at the blood on my face. “This one won’t need stitches. I’ll use a Steri-Strip and you should be okay.”
As he rummages through the supplies, he chatters away, and that’s what drew me to him the first time. Well, other than the geyser of blood from my chin that gave me no choice but to see him.
“So how long have you been with the Aspens? A summer trade?”
“It wasn’t even a trade. My contract was up, and I was in the right place at the right time. I signed for one year to play here, but…”
Fuck, I do not want to say this out loud because it hurts. Landon’s face softens as he cleanses my cut. He knows.
“It’s hard, I know. But no hockey on ice doesn’t mean no hockey ever, right? Coaching, training, scouts. There are a lot of opportunities. And some don’t travel, which is a bonus too.”
Landon applies two strips to my chin. “Good as new.”
He smiles, and I remember the first time we met, just like this. I would have asked him out for a drink if I weren’t so sore from that hit.
“Do you have a place to stay here yet?” I ask. Why I’m always curious about people’s living arrangements, I don’t know.
Landon wipes the blood from my neck and chin with a wet cloth.
“I do. A friend of mine set me up with a sublease in his friend’s building.
I guess the dude is a billionaire and owns property everywhere.
My friend Colby asked him for a favour and I’m not mad about it.
” Landon laughs, and I’m happy his landing here was smoother than mine.
“Nice. Good for you, man. It’s a hard city to find anything decent that doesn’t take all your pay.
I’m keeping it simple and just got a smaller apartment.
I need to be more careful with the money if this is my last kick at the can.
” Hopping off the table, I grab my helmet and pause.
“Listen, other than the team, I don’t know many people here.
If you ever want to hang out, I could use another friend. ”
Jesus—his smile is more sunshine than Ben’s.
“Oh, for sure! I’d love that.” He offers a hand to shake, and we laugh.
“No offence, Landon, but I’d rather get to know you out of the medical room. The less I’m in here, the better.”
He throws his head back in a laugh. “I understand that. I’ll see you around, Lukas.”
With a wave, I let Landon clean up and return to the practice. Everyone is off the ice and changing to do our first dry land workouts. Plunking at my stall next to Smitty, I ask him how the rest of the scrimmage went.
“Did I miss anything good?”
He glances around us and leans in, whispering. “Evans got laid out by Youngblood. I don’t know what that guy’s issue is, but Coach isn’t too happy about it.” He glances around again and leans closer. “You should have seen him go down. Youngblood is stronger than he looks.”
Evans is across the room, headphones already in, set to hit the treadmill. When he notices me watching, he gives me the finger before leaving the room. Nice.
“I’ve never played with him before, but I’ve played against him for a few years. I don’t know what his issue is, but he might cause problems on this team.”
“I thought the same. But I’m hoping maybe it’s just a bad day for him.”
Stripping off my gear, I grab my shower kit and a towel.
“I know we’re working out right after lunch, but I can’t stand the smell of the blood from this cut. I’m washing up quickly, and if you want a partner in the gym, save me a spot.”
Smitty agrees he’ll save me a place, and I linger in the shower, enjoying the last time nothing on my body will ache until the season is over.